(SINCE I DO NOT — USE VULGAR LANGUAGE ON MY BLOG, THE WORD “SHIT” HAS BEEN REPLACED WITH THE WORD “DOO-DOO)
I have had no luck with dogs. I would have to say the only dog I ever owned that I had any enjoyment out of was my first dog. It’s also the only dog I ever abused. I’ll tell you one thing, Ex-Lax sure works great on a dog. (It was my friends idea…)
A few years back, someone my wife knew was giving away a dog. We went to this person’s home to meet the dog. It was a lovely dog named Lex. The woman stated that it was fully trained and loved to be outside.
We brought the dog home. It was a lovely, cute, adorable floppy eared three year old mutt. I worked the midnight shift that night. The dog stayed in the house throughout the night in the living room. I came home from work in the morning and walked into the living room. The dog had shit, oops, I mean doo-doo’d. Major doo doo. I don’t think this dog laid down all night. There were droppings on top of droppings. This dog was excellent at shitting. I looked at the dog in disgust, the dog looked at me and smirked. “This is what man’s best friend does to him?” I mumbled.
After I cleaned up the mess, I took the cute, adorable, floppy eared dog out to his backyard leash. Forced myself to give him a pat on the head. “Enjoy your day, Lex”. I went back in the house and flopped on the bed in exhaustion. I quickly fell asleep. Then I heard a noise. It was the dog. The dog was barking, constantly. The dog that loved the great outdoors. I went to see the dog from hell. I looked at the dog in disgust and the dog gave me a smirk back. At that precise moment I wish I had a gun collection. I let the cute, adorable floppy eared dog back in the house. I finally fell asleep. I heard the odd noise or two but managed to sleep for a few hours. When I arose, I had a sense of deja-vu.
Suddenly there was a certain odor in the air and it wasn’t perfume… I stepped out into the living room and there was doo-doo all over the living room floor. I stared at the dog in disgust. Damn dog gave me a smirk back. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something I could not believe. It was my television remote control. My beloved remote control. The heart and soul of my whole reason for living. The remote control was on the floor. It had been chewed (probably in-between doo-doo’s) It had been chewed so badly that the tubes inside were now on the outside. I never thought I would get to see the inner workings of my remote control. Amazingly, it still worked. (I always thought it was a quality product. To doo-doo all over the house is one thing but to destroy a man’s remote control is another.
I also noticed my wife’s underwear from the laundry on the floor. The crotch had been eaten completely out. I knew I didn’t do it. There was also something else he had chewed on that I won’t mention. Let’s just say this dog must have been part bloodhound… The only thing the dog never chewed on were my underwear. Even with his cast iron stomach the dog must have known his limits.
It would be very embarrassing having this dog around the house when company was over. This was one horny dog. This dog would hump the hall rug until he was satisfied. He would hump my friend’s leg. He would hump the cat. That was the first time I ever heard a cat say “yeow!” instead of “meow!”.
We finally gave the cute, adorable floppy eared dog back to his owner after only three days of torment. As they pulled out of the driveway with him, I could see that damn dog gazing out the back window. I gave him the finger.